“I should like to see the poor little devils, with their rosy cheeks and their long black gowns, and when they were pretty, I should n’t scruple to kiss them. But if I can’t have that amusement I must have some other. We must not stand planted on this enchanting terrace as if we were stakes driven into the earth. We must dance, we must feast, we must do something picturesque. Mamma has arranged, I believe, that we are to go back to Frascati to lunch at the inn. I decree that we lunch here and send the Cavaliere to the inn to get the provisions! He can take the carriage, which is waiting below.” Miss Light carried out this undertaking with unfaltering ardor. The Cavaliere was summoned, and he stook to receive her commands hat in hand, with his eyes cast down, as if she had been a princess addressing her major-domo. She, however, laid her hand with friendly grace upon his button-hole, and called him a dear, good old Cavaliere, for being always so willing. Her spirits had risen with the occasion, and she talked irresistible nonsense. “Bring the best they have,” she said, “no matter if it ruins us! And if the best is very bad, it will be all the more amusing. I shall enjoy seeing Mr. Mallet try to swallow it for propriety’s sake! Mr. Hudson will say out like a man that it ‘s horrible stuff, and that he ‘ll be choked first! Be sure you bring a dish of maccaroni; the prince must have the diet of the Neapolitan nobility. But I leave all that to you, my poor, dear Cavaliere; you know what ‘s good! Only be sure, above all, you bring a guitar. Mr. Mallet will play us a tune, I ‘ll dance with Mr. Hudson, and mamma will pair off with the prince, of whom she is so fond!” And as she concluded her recommendations, she patted her bland old servitor caressingly on the shoulder. He looked askance at Rowland; his little black eye glittered; it seemed to say, “Did n’t I tell you she was a good girl!”